


You have as many smiles as you have freckles and I like that about you

by hippopotatoe



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, and i guess they swear and stuff but i don't think there's anything special i should warn about, i don't even know how coffee works help, i have no idea how coffee shops works, jean just happens to work in one and that's it, oh and marco have lost a leg as well as an arm bc i don't know i just wanted a marco without a leg, well not really actually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippopotatoe/pseuds/hippopotatoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something familiar with the ever smiling man who one day decides to visit the shitty coffee shop where Jean works. It's not just the fact that he seems to be missing his whole right side - Jean would surely have noticed that if he'd been there before. It's something else. And that smile. Jean couldn't possible be falling in love now, could he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	You have as many smiles as you have freckles and I like that about you

Jean took a deep breath and sat down on a tall and uncomfortable stool. The morning rush was over and he would have a couple of hours cleaning up behind the counter and preparing for the lunch rush, which was even more stressful than the wave of customers he just had. Oh, the time he spent on wishing he wasn’t a shitty coffee shop employee. But money is money, and even the shittiest apartment costs, so he was not going to give up on the job until he was fired, or found something better. He let his eyes wander around the shop. There were only three customers in now; a giggling couple and a man with a laptop who Jean assumed would sit there for some hours and whom he wouldn’t be able to chase off before lunch. The interior of the shop was horrible. He assumed most customers didn’t notice, but after a year even Jean could tell mint green and ”warm forrest-y” green did not go well together. The bell by the door signaled customers, and he took another deep breath before forcing his face to look customer friendly, and not just horrible bored and bitter.

There was a company of about seven students. Jean groaned. Why did everyone in the whole world buy coffee here, today, during his lazy hours? Why did he work day at a coffee shop near a uni? At least university students didn’t mind him bitching or being snarky, so he usually didn’t have to waste energy on being friendly, which was a plus since he didn’t like his job enough to be friendly all the time. The con was their complicated tastes. With people his age, it was never ”one medium coffee, black”, it was always ”one tall mocha latte with five fucking pumps of this and that and a sacrifice to satan on the side” and oh, how he wanted to tell them this wasn’t Starbucks and he wasn’t some magician and he did not have time or patience for their ridiculous orders. Why couldn’t people just stick with the menu? It was a wonder really how he could still work there after over a year of built up anger and hatred towards the customers. He finished taking an unnecessarily complicated order and turned to the very last person in the line.

”Hi. One small coffee please. Black” he said and offered Jean a sweet smile that took him off guard. He stared at the smiling guy for a second to long before shaking his head and give back the change. He saw the scarred face, the silly eyepatch and how the right side of the mouth didn’t really smiled as wide as the left. He did not reflect over how long it took for the man to get the money out of his wallet, or how he just simply dropped the change in his jack pocket.

”You know” Jean said, ”I thought guys like you were a myth. The hell are you even doing with those people here?”

The man smiled again. He seemed to understand that Jean was talking about the coffee and not his face.

”Apparently cheap coffee from the school cafeteria wouldn’t do today” he said before limping over to his friends. Jean followed him with the eyes before finishing the orders, and he felt stupid for not noticing the crutch the man seemed dependent on earlier. He did however notice how only two in the company fetched the finished drinks, and how the smiling man with the crutch was not one of them. There was something unnerving familiar with him, but he couldn’t figure what it was, and it would occupy his mind for the rest of the day, making him ever more short tempered than usual, to his coworker’s irritation.

-

Two weeks later Jean had almost stopped thinking about the man who wanted his coffee black. He sighed deeply and stretched behind the counter. It was past morning rush, pre lunch rush, and there were only one person in the shop besides him, a customer who looked like he would sit at the same table for the rest of the day. The bell by the door went off, indicating a customer. Jean looked over to the door, more out of habit than curiosity. A limping figure with a crotch made his way to Jean.

”Hi! One small coffee please, black” he said with a small and slightly nervous smile. Jean felt a jolt of happiness, which he pushed back in favour for the feeling of ease; it was a simple thing to fill a cup with black coffee, it was a tricky thing to fill a cup with stupid hipster bullshit. Jean didn’t really want the man to leave just yet though.

”You know” he said ”you’re making your way to become my favourite customer, and you’re doing it quickly. Like, this is literally the second time you're here.” He hoped for another smile, and his hope was not in vain.

”In that case I think it’d be a good thing to introduce myself” the man said, ever smiling. ”I’m Marco. I guess we should shake hands and whatever, but…” he didn’t finish the sentence, but lifted his right arm instead. Or rather what was left of his right arm. Which was nothing. He literally just moved his right shoulder. Jean looked surprised. He hadn’t notice the lack of arm.

”Huh.” He put a lid to the cup of coffee he’d made for the guy. For Marco. ”Do you want me to carry it out for you or…?”

He didn’t want to be insensitive, but the guy was limping to the degree he needed a crutch, so for whatever reason it was he didn’t have any free hands. Unless he’d leave the crutch, but what would be the point of having one if you just left it and walk without it.

”Uhm… I was actually thinking… would it be ok if I sat here?” Marco asked, slightly blushing. It almost wasn’t visible, given Marco’s freckles and skin colour - he was one of those people who’d look tanned no matter the time of the year, but Jean found that almost invisible blush cute. He froze for a second when he realized he just thought of a guy, of a complete stranger as cute. That hadn’t happened since he was a kid. But he wasn’t less of a man than that he showed Marco to two bar stools, identical to the one behind the counter. Almost no one used them. Lonely people hid behind computers or books, people in companies did not stop by to spend time with snarky baristas. And if they did, they came during lunch, and well. There wasn’t enough room to actually sit next to the counter during lunch. Marco, however, made himself at home on one of the chairs.

”So, mysterious coffee man, do you have a name?” he asked, shooting a smile towards Jean. Jesus, how could the guy smile so much? Jean knew very well the name tag on his ugly apron was very well legible and that Marco probably had read it already, but he still answered with his name, and the conversation continued ridiculously easy after that. Jean was surprised how easy it was to talk to Marco. He wasn’t really a mean person, and he did have some friends, but he was blunt and came off as rude at times, and people usually ended up uncomfortable. Marco however seemed to find Jeans harsh words refreshing and just laughed at his straight forwardness. Jean on the other side found Marco’s softness calming, and he realized he wasn’t at all bothered by his presence. 

-

The days passed. Marco would drop by the shop a couple of times a week, always sitting in the same chair, out of his way for customers but near Jean. Most of the times he’d show up sometimes between morning and midday, but sometimes he came in the afternoon. They’d talk about everything and nothing. Sometimes Marco would do some school assignment, sometimes they’d fight about music or film, sometimes Jean would try to teach Marco about the fine art of Shitty Coffee Place Work. Today, Marco had come not long before Jean’s shift was over, which he informed the visitor slash customer slash possible friend.

”…Which means?” 

”Well, you could always skip the coffee and eat dinner with me instead. I dunno, if you want to, you could always follow me home, I’m a half decent cook.” Jean had wanted to invite him since a while back, but he hadn’t really gotten the chance. He wanted to hang out with Marco more than at work.

”Sure”

”Sure?”

”Yeah. Can’t see why not… Is it far from here? I don’t walk very fast…”

”Nah, it’s just like two minutes from here, really.”

”Mm, five. As I said, I don’t walk fast. And believe it or not, but it’s quite exhausting walking with a new prosthesis. You’d think I would be used to it by now, but nope, thing’s still uncomfortable and shitty, so I rather not walk long distances if I can avoid it.”

”…You have a prosthesis?”

”Well, yeah, I’m not jumping around on one leg, am I?”

He didn’t want to admit it but Jean was surprised. Marco’s limp was very noticeable, but he never really _thought_ about it. Instead of answering Marco he went to stash away the apron and pick up his bag and cardigan.

It turned out Marco was right about not walking very fast. The short distance to Jean’s tiny apartment took more than twice as long as usual, and then there was two stairs to climb. Jean felt like quite a douchebag even though Marco would smile and tell him it was okay.

”It’s refreshing, you know, how it seems like you’re forgetting about my handicaps.” 

”Refreshing, huh. You sure are nice with words. I can take the truth. Just tell me I’m shitty.”

”But you aren’t. I don’t know if you’re just ignorant, or very just more human than others, but you don’t even seem to be uncomfortable about my face. It’s nice, it feels like you see me, and not my scars.”

”…Quite a thing to tell a guy you’ve known for just a handful of weeks. Anyway, here we are. La casa del Jean Kirschtein.” Jean shoved the door open. It was just one room and a small kitchen, but there was a decent bathroom and even a small balcony. The bed wasn’t made and dirty laundry was littered all over the floor along with magazines, empty soda and beer cans and dishes.

”Yeah. Ok, I might need to clean, but as long as you don’t step on the plates it should be fine. I can start the dinner right away if you want to. Is there anything you don’t eat?” He kicked off the sneakers and went straight to the kitchen.

Marco shook his head an laughed silently. It sure was messy, but he hadn’t expected anything else from Jean. He took off his leather jacket and dumped it on a chair next to the door. Of course Jean wouldn’t have a proper coat racket. There were marks after one though.

Jean was, as he said, a half decent cook. The food wasn’t great but it was certainly not bad. During the meal they talked about things and stuff, as they always did. 

”So you moved pretty far from home?” Marco asked as they, for some reason they couldn’t really tell, talked about their childhood.

 

”Nah, mom and dad got a divorce and I ended up with the old man here. Don’t really have good contact with any of them though, dad moved again some years ago, and I stayed here. Had a shitty part time job then, and I never really got out from the habit of work. Guess it’d be cool to start studying again, but, Yeah. Money.”

”You don’t have any contact at all with your old friends?”

”I had like what, two friends. I was such a troublesome kid, you wouldn’t even know!” Jean laughed, and Marco smiled. It wasn’t hard to think of Jean as a kid who often ended up in fights.

”It was this kid you know, I always fought with him, it was so ridiculous. I had like, the biggest crush on his sister, and he couldn’t have any of that. I don’t think she even saw me. Ah, the hard life of the unappreciated prince. And then I was twelve and moved. And realized I liked my best friend and somewhere along the way I only pretend to like the girl for the fights with her brother. What a story, huh?”

Marco smiled. It was something soft with his smile. Jean liked it, the way Marco was always smiling. They hadn’t known each other for long, but he was pretty confident in his ability of differ Marco’s different smiles from each other. This was one he hadn’t seen before, but it was still pretty. And there was something disturbing with the fact he thought the other man’s smile was pretty. Marco wasn’t very manly to begin with though. His face was young and friendly, with a constant smile that made him look even younger. He was a year older than Jean, and taller, but he came off as much younger. Maybe because he’d stayed in school while Jean was determinate to grow up as soon as possible, and despite being only twenty two and working in a coffee shop he seemed much elder than his freckled friend. 

The afternoon become evening, on the verge of night, and the young men decided to part. Jean walked Marco to nearest bus stop and waited with him. It started to rain, and Marco hummed on a ridiculous song Jean was sure would get stuck in his head for the rest of the week.

”How do you work on Friday and Saturday?” he asked, catching Jean off guard.

”Hm?”

”If you work decent shifts, I could always have dinner at your place on Friday. If you want to.” 

”Yeah. I’m free at saturday, and only work until lunch on Friday. You’re free to drop by whenever.” Jean hopes he sounded nonchalant. His stomach felt tight, as if he was nervous. Marco nodded and took up on humming on the stupid song again, and they sat like that until the bus actually came. 

-

Jean had trouble sleeping that night. It was something he’d missed with Marco and he couldn’t put his finger on it. On top of that, his body was acting like he was a teenage girl thinking of a crush. And if it was one thing Jean Kirschtein, grown up and independent did not got, it was crushes.

He turned over in bed and groaned. Who was he trying to fool? 

He had such a crush on Marco.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fanfic for snk ever. i have no idea if they're in character or not and omg please help me out with the grammar, my english is so bad  
> so yeah all critique is welcome, positive as well as negative 
> 
> also haha i'll be posting next chapter tomorrow i'm to tired to finish right now. next chapter will contain fluff and romantic silly boys i promise


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